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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25824913">You touch everything with a velvet glove</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sham/pseuds/Sham'>Sham</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1am smut tbh, Fluff, M/M, Morning Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:26:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25824913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sham/pseuds/Sham</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As Nicky smiles for the memory of Joe biting into a mango in Malaysia, sweet juice dripping down his wet fingers and staining honeyed and gold in his beard, Joe’s arm tightens around him, dragging warm palms down his arm to his waist, lower.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You touch everything with a velvet glove</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title taken from Losing a Whole Year by Third Eye Blind.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s cold when Nicky stretches, the blanket slipping off his shoulder, drawing a light shiver even as he whines. He presses his hands to his face, the balls of his palms pressing in until bright bursts of red and purple explode behind his eyelids, and shifts back in the warmth behind him. It has been some time since they’ve been in a cold climate, decades of them preferring sun - there is little more beautiful than Joe, skin colored burnished gold, sweat highlighting the peaks of his body: cheekbones, collarbones, the raised tendon in his neck when he stretches to take Nicky’s mouth. He knows Joe thinks fondly of him, lying in patches of sun like a cat, damp at the crevasses of his body where he will never quite acclimatize to the heat.</p><p>As Nicky smiles helplessly for the memory of Joe biting into a mango in Malaysia, sweet juice dripping down his wet fingers and staining honeyed and gold in his beard, Joe’s arm tightens around him, dragging warm palms down his arm to his waist, lower.</p><p>“Are you cold, my heart?” Joe’s voice is sleep-rough in his ear and so familiar.</p><p>Nicky turns to lie on his back, nudging his face into Joe’s neck as he shifts to lie over him, blanketing him in warmth. He stretches again, toes pointing down and then dragging up, restless until his legs curve around Joe, skin against skin with nothing in between. He hums lightly, presses his lips to Joe’s cheek, then the delicate skin under his eye, the gentle curve of his ear. “Not for long,” he whispers.</p><p>Joe breathes out a laugh, a secret in the warm air between their faces. He drags a hand down Nicky’s thigh and shifts over him more fully, forearms bracketing Nicky’s face, careful not to trap Nicky’s hair. It’s longer, now, feathery around the edges. As Nicky smiles up at him, pink rising in his cheeks, Joe drops his weight down further, unable to resist. His cock presses into Nicky’s from below, both of them half-hard from dreams of each other.</p><p>Nicky sighs with pleasure, eyes slipping half-closed. He braves the cold again, throws one arm out to his side to reach for the table next to him, fingers scrambling over wood fruitlessly until he finds what he’s looking for. He passes the lube to Joe, relaxing down into the bed again, eyes slipping fully closed as he goes.</p><p>Joe smiles and slicks his fingers, trailing a wet path down the dear slopes of Nicky’s body, so so familiar and still enough to make sweat rise in the backs of his knees, to make his mouth wet. He slips fingers into Nicky, still slightly sticky from last night, the heat of him burning in contrast to the cold air against Joe’s shoulders where the blanket has fallen further. </p><p>Nicky cries out, head tilting back. He fists his hair with one hand and uses the other to clutch Joe’s shoulders, fingers squeezing tight enough that if it had been him, his skin would have bloomed in white and pink. Joe smiles and dips down, takes long kisses from Nicky, stroking his tongue against him until the morning sourness is gone and Nicky is panting against him, writhing against his hand, whining for more.</p><p>It takes little effort for Nicky to roll them over, Joe feeling the slightest tension before he moves and bracing himself, landing on his back with his hands on Nicky’s waist. Nicky sits up, the blanket slipping away until only one corner covers Joe’s legs - Joe kicks it off, an irritating distraction. The heat they have created between them is enough.</p><p>It is not always this easy, this calm between them. It is rare for them to have had so much time together with so little work, nothing to detract from taking their fill of each other as much as it is possible for them to do so. They have not had to watch each other hurt, not had to share each other with an impossible, never-ending job - they deserve this time together. After Merrick, after Booker, after helping Andy train Nile for months, this time is finally their own. In the first days after Andy left them with a wink and Nile with a warm embrace, they had come together violently, loudly. Joe had taken Nicky against a wall, and Nicky had broken a headboard in his pleasure.</p><p>Now, however, they are soft together, though no less passionate. Gaze locked with Joe’s, Nicky rises onto his knees, reaches behind him and sinks down. He cries out, head tilting back with the heat that rushes through him and the familiar swoop in his belly. Joe reaches, helpless, to trace the pink that blossoms down Nicky’s throat, marvelling at how he can feel blood running safely beneath his skin. He hisses as Nicky tightens around him and brings his hands back down to grip firmly at Nicky’s hips, helping him as he starts to rise and fall. </p><p>Nicky knows how to take what he wants, how to make it last, to treasure and prolong the pleasure singing through his veins. Joe looks up at him in wonder, his dark eyes almost wet; after centuries, the pleasure is still no less disarming and the sheer magnitude of his love for the man in his arms presses down on him, lifts him up, as buoyant as the weight of the ocean.</p><p>Time goes syrup-thick as they move together, the air warm and both of them slick with sweat, with exertion from their movements and the strain from holding back their pleasure. The room they’re in, cavernous and bright as it is, glowing with winter sun, is awash with the sounds they make. Joe’s soft groans as Nicky moves spur him on, taking what he wants Joe's solid body. He pushes his palms into Joe’s broad chest for balance, sweeps his fingers absently over bronzed nipples and leans down to kiss him, hard, whining soft sounds into Joe’s generous mouth.</p><p>Nicky lets out a loud a cry when Joe reaches between them, wraps a warm hand around where he’s wet and needy. Joe knows what he likes, strokes him firm and with a steady pace, matching Nicky’s rhythm, a twist at the head slicking his palm and fingers.</p><p>“Soon,” Nicky chokes out and Joe nods, bites his lip, strokes Nicky’s hair out of his face where it is caught against his damp forehead.</p><p>Nicky comes first, quietly, and settles sated on Joe’s chest. He kisses Joe’s cheek once, twice, and smiles. “Take your pleasure from me, my love, I want to feel you,”</p><p>Joe looks at him for a long moment, fitting Nicky’s cheek into the curve of his clean hand. “Not too sensitive?” he teases, and Nicky narrows his eyes playfully.</p><p>“Never too sensitive for you,” he murmurs sweetly, and clenches down on Joe hard inside him, enough to make Joe groan loudly. Nicky pants out a laugh, looking down at Joe with heavy-lidded eyes. "See?"</p><p>Joe smiles and rolls them over again, perilously close to the edge of the bed. Nicky splays out his arms, laughing breathlessly, and digs his heels into the muscles of Joe’s broad back just where it tapers into his waist. “Come on then,” he entreats, and watches rapturously as Joe presses into him, takes what he needs, lets out a steady stream of moans and whines. </p><p>After Joe finally comes, wet and warm inside him, Nicky stretches his legs out to feel his skin prickle in the cold air. He reaches for the blanket and drapes it over them both, trapping them in humidity that smells like them, blocking out the cold morning. “Sleep now, darling,” he says, and his eyes are shut even as Joe pulls out and turns his body, wraps a heavy arm around his stomach, and pulls him ever impossibly closer.</p>
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